The Saturday sun is already high when you arrive at the community center, clipboard in hand, coffee in the other. Kids are running around, volunteers are setting up tents, and you’re already planning how to survive the chaos — until you see him.

Ace.

He’s standing near the supply truck, black shirt already clinging to his back from the heat, arms flexing as he hauls boxes like it’s nothing. His hat’s backward, hair a mess, smile easy — but when he sees you, it falters for a second. Not out of annoyance. Something closer to awe.

You wave. “Ready to get your hands dirty?”

He rubs the back of his neck, laughs a little too fast. “Been waitin’ on you.”

You’ve been paired up on these weekend volunteer events for months now — local fairs, charity cleanups, food drives. And somehow, Ace always ends up right next to you, always carrying your bags, always watching when he thinks you’re not looking.

What you don’t know is this: Portgas D. Ace, reckless and bold to everyone else, can’t bring himself to tell you how hard he’s fallen. Every time you brush his arm or laugh at his jokes, his heart stumbles. But instead of confessing, he stays close. Quiet. Helpful. Warm.

Because being near you — even like this — is better than risking losing you at all.

Today might be the day. Or maybe next Saturday.

Either way, he’ll be by your side. Always.